


Sleep in the Heat

by Costellos



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Improper Use of a Prosthetic Arm, Lactation, Porn With Plot, Post-Canon, Shiro Succ the Piddies, Sleepy Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-10 15:33:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15294567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Costellos/pseuds/Costellos
Summary: Motherhood is all fun and games until your baby won't feed. Luckily, Pidge has a husband who's more than happy to help.





	Sleep in the Heat

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote and rewrote this literally like six times because I couldn't decide on past or present tense. I'm still tempted to go through and re-tense this whole goddamn thing.
> 
> Also, I'm probably gonna write a Keith version too because I'm a thirsty hoe for Kidge, so I'll just post that as a second chapter if that's the case.
> 
> Anyway, shout out to [@katieshirogane](http://katieshirogane.tumblr.com) who is 65% of the reason this fic exists and who also owns Trillian and totally agreed to let me use their Shidge baby for this terrible smut lmao. Luv u pal ;o

If someone had told Pidge ten years ago that someday she’d be back on Earth, half-awake and beyond agitated as she tried to get a fussy, crying baby to latch onto her nipple at three o’clock in the morning while the prospect of work later on churned her gut with dread, she would have probably jammed her bayard between their ribs and shocked such a ridiculous idea right out of them. But life, as she had already known and would only continue to find out, had a funny way of turning ridiculous into reality.

Don’t get her wrong; Pidge loved being a mother. She was almost a natural at it, really, much to her—and everyone else’s—surprise. Sure, the idea of kids might’ve made her cringe at some point in the past, but now that she’d had a taste of the sweetness that domesticity and motherhood had to offer? She couldn’t imagine anywhere else she’d rather be than right here. She only wished that motherhood didn’t have to be so… _uncomfortable._

Pidge sighed as she padded down the hall away from the nursery. She quietly slipped back into the bedroom, careful as she stepped around the creaking floorboards so as to not disturb her sleeping husband. Shiro let out a soft breath and worried his brows for a split second as Pidge wormed her way back beneath the blanket, close enough to feel his calming heat but still far enough away to give her the space that she so desperately needed. She watched the peaceful rise and fall of his shoulder as he slept for a few seconds before flopping onto her back with a frustrated groan.

Her boobs _hurt._

“Katie?”

Ever the light sleeper, Shiro had propped himself up on his elbow, voice groggy but full of his typical warm concern. His eyes were barely open as he tried to assess a situation that didn’t exist, habitually glancing around the room before settling back on her.

“What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

If Pidge were only half as envious of the way his eyes were swollen with sleep, she would have found his messy tuft of tangled hair to be cute. “I’m fine,” she said, though she was clearly anything but. She blinked up at the ceiling, anticipating her name on his lips again, and decided that she didn’t feel like dragging this out. “It’s just—it’s Trillian. She’s—”

“What’s wrong with—?”

“She won’t _eat.”_ Pidge was quick to stamp out her husband’s mounting fears. Shiro immediately relaxed back into his arm. “And okay, yeah, maybe she’s not hungry, I know,” Pidge continued, reading Shiro like an open book, “but she hasn’t eaten anything for the past three hours and hasn’t nursed from _me_ in nine, and—and it _hurts,_ okay!”

In his drowsy state, it took Shiro a moment for her words to click. “What about the pump?”

“It broke, because the universe hates me and wants me to suffer.” She rolled her eyes as she yanked at the neck of her tank top. It was the second one of the night, the first one having been soaked through to the point that it stuck uncomfortably to her chest. This one wasn’t far behind.

“I don’t understand. Why does she do this to me?” she bemoaned. “How come she latches onto _you_ like you’re a goddamn cow? Are _my_ boobs not good enough for her? What, does she have _boob standards?”_

Shiro chuckled. “Katie…”

“I don’t deserve this! I’m a good person, I pay my taxes!”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough. Come on.” Shiro’s hand found her and he pulled her in, rolling her onto her side so that she was facing him. Pidge would have put up more of a fight if his sleepy grin wasn’t such a one-shot kill. “Lie down.”

Pidge watched him through narrowed eyes as he closed his own and sank back into his pillow with a yawn, cybernetic hand rubbing loose circles into her side. He cracked an eye open after a few seconds of suspicious silence. “Hey. Didn’t I say to relax?”

No, actually, he’d said to lie down—as if either were even an option when her boobs felt like they were about to explode. Still, she grumbled and did as he said, dropping her head with an inelegant grunt. Shiro, again, only chuckled. His amusement was unappreciated, but Pidge managed to swallow the snarky response on her tongue.

Pidge closed her eyes and willed herself to ignore the dull aching in her breasts. She tried to concentrate on Shiro’s quiet, steady breathing, and the reassuring—albeit slightly bothersome at the moment—weight of his hand to help lull her to sleep. But she was so uncomfortable that she couldn’t lie still, and she was practically sweating now, or maybe it wasn’t sweat, and she swore that she would never let Shiro get her pregnant ever again, and Shiro’s hand was falling from her side and slipping up under her arm, and—

Pidge’s eyes snapped open with a sharp inhale when Shiro’s hand suddenly found her breast, cupping it softly through her damp tank top. Her own hand shot to his shoulder, where her blunt fingernails dug themselves into his skin. Shiro either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“Shiro…” Pidge hesitated, unsure whether or not she should stop him, only finding it harder and harder to do so as his seemingly-innocent fondling slowly turned to something more intentional. Tossing and turning in his sleep was one thing, but blatantly feeling her up while out cold was something else entirely. She gasped when a particularly intense squeeze had her leaking against his palm.

“Stop,” she commanded weakly, fighting the urge to arch into his touch. Even though it felt… _good,_ Pidge knew that she had to end this before things got out of control. “Shiro, come on, knock it off.” But Shiro didn’t listen; only continued to massage her, undeterred by her shaky warnings and the growing wet splotch beneath his palm. For a moment Pidge’s internal griping about having to change shirts again were forgotten as she finally allowed herself to succumb to the feeling of his large, warm hand slowly easing away her discomfort—until it dawned on her not what they were doing, but _where._

“The sheets.” Pidge shoved at his shoulder, feeling the wet warmth that had pooled between the fabric of her tank top and his palm escape. “Seriously, Shiro, stop! You’re going to make a mess!”

Shiro’s hand stilled. For the first time since it’d all began, he let his eyes flutter open halfway, though his sights seemed to be focused somewhere further down. He began tugging at the neck of Pidge’s tank top.

“What the hell are—?” Pidge started to ask, but Shiro soon abandoned whatever strange objective he’d had when it was clear that he wasn’t getting anywhere. Pidge, both relieved and somewhat disappointed, was at least able to breathe easier when Shiro’s hand drifted back down to her waist, where his fingers fumbled blindly with the hem of her tank top. He suddenly yanked it up to bunch around her neck.

“Ugh—Shiro!” Pidge griped as she one-handedly wrestled it the rest of the way off, not exactly smitten with having a tank top half-soaked through with breast milk pushed up under her chin.

She was preparing another, more comprehensive complaint when she felt his hand on her breast again, but with her head momentarily caught in her tank top, she hadn’t seen him slide down the bed. She freed herself with a sudden jerk when she felt his hot breath against her bare skin, followed by a tentative lick, not directly on her sensitive, leaking nipple, but catching along the edge. Pidge found herself reflexively pushing her chest out for more, to which Shiro eagerly obliged.

Face hot from a mix of both shame and arousal, Pidge gave in and let herself enjoy the rough feeling of the flat of Shiro’s tongue dragging across her nipple. “Mm, do you even know what you’re doing right now?” she teased with a wavering smirk, half-joking but entirely in disbelief at the sheer brazenness of her usually modest husband. Shiro responded by switching breasts and repeating the process, cautious and careful as he tested the waters with an experimental suck, gauging her reaction. He went in for more when she hissed and threaded her fingers through his shock-white hair.

Pidge bit her lip as she watched through half-lidded eyes as her husband suckled at her breasts. The sound of him swallowing was the most obscene thing she’d ever heard, conjuring up the filthiest thoughts that had her tingling between her thighs. She tried to squeeze them to quell the feeling, but it was impossible with the way Shiro had his own leg wedged between them in his effort to gain better access to her chest. So she rutted against him instead, desperate to gain some friction from something, _anything_ —until she felt him, hot and half-hard, pressed against the inside of her thigh.

A fresh ripple of desire tore its way through Pidge, knowing that her husband was getting off on this. She wondered if maybe that meant he’d indulge her sudden newfound craving, if she were to shimmy out of her panties and swing her leg up over his hips—perfect access to slot himself into her, if only his own underwear weren’t in the way. Still, the mere thought was enough to set her gut on fire, causing her to tighten her grip in his hair as she tried to angle herself toward him. She gasped when she felt him just barely press into her through the fabric of their underwear.

Shiro paused and pulled back, his bleary eyes finally meeting her own. In the dim light that filtered in through their flimsy bedroom curtains from the streetlamps outside, the sight of Shiro—her gentle, unassuming, mild-mannered husband—with his parted, swollen lips and milk dribbling down his chin was enough to make her lose it. Her breasts may have felt lighter now, but she felt heavy at her core.

Shiro seemed to have the same idea as his hand ghosted over her hip, fingering at the elastic band of her panties, watching her. He tugged at them how he’d done her shirt. Pidge quickly wiggled her way out of them as he dragged them down, losing them somewhere between the sheets toward the foot of the bed. Shiro’s own underwear soon joined hers in obscurity, and when Pidge eagerly scooted back in and threw her leg over his waist, the tip of Shiro’s bare cock already poking against her hole caught of her off guard, making her ache and clench around nothing.

Shiro buried his face in the valley of her breasts as he nudged forward, sliding against her soaked folds and slicking himself up with her wetness until he finally breached her opening and slipped inside, earning himself a lip-bitten groan. He hummed as he reached down to suckle at a breast, only to end up with a mouthful of the skin right above them; his towering height proved to be a hindrance in this new position, and even if it weren’t, it wasn’t like there was anything left to be had as he’d succeeded in completely draining her. That didn’t stop him from trying, though, and neither did it keep Pidge from encouraging him by pushing out her chest.

Although Shiro’s thrusts were slow and languid, Pidge held onto him for dear life as she fought to stifle her moans, thankful that the nursery was a good distance down the hall lest she scar their daughter for life with her hitched moans and needy begging for “more,” and, “god, yes, right there.” But Shiro’s lazy rutting—as good as it felt—just wasn’t enough to drive her toward her peak.

If Shiro wanted to roll on top of her and fuck her, _hard_ —well, Pidge wouldn’t complain. But it was late, and he was tired, and _god_ , she didn’t want him to stop, not even for a second. So she wormed her hand between their bodies to help guide herself over the edge, only to have it pushed away and replaced with Shiro’s own mechanical one seconds later, rigid fingers pressed against her sensitive clit as they began to vibrate, making use of an often forgotten function that Pidge had added in jest one night after a few drinks and a terrible idea from Lance.

Pidge couldn’t help it then. Between Shiro’s cock repeatedly assaulting her g-spot and the strong, steady pulses that his fingers sent reverberating throughout her lower half, Pidge screwed her eyes shut tight as her orgasm suddenly washed over her. With his mechanical hand still unyielding, the pleasurable aftershocks quickly turned to overstimulation, making her buck and clench around Shiro, who soon followed after with a low, guttural grunt and his face shoved into her chest as he stilled deep inside of her.

The both of them laid there panting as they both came down from their high, wrapped around one another, neither of them willing to break away despite the permeating heat and sweat that drenched them. Even as Shiro readjusted himself, he made no effort to pull out, inadvertently burying himself deeper and making Pidge see stars when he pushed himself back up the bed.

Pidge looked at him, obviously more awake now than he’d been prior, a small, sleepy smile ghosting his lips. She thumbed away a few stray droplets of milk from the corner of his mouth, careful not to dwell on the new surge of arousal that made her throb at the sight.

“Feel better?” he asked.

Pidge snorted. “You could say that, yeah.”

Shiro huffed a breathy laugh and pulled her in closer, until her head was tucked up under his chin. But everytime he shifted, he moved inside of her more, still half-hard, dragging along her walls and making her whine.

_“Shiro—”_

“Yeah?”

“Stop, _please,_ oh my god,” she complained as she twisted uncomfortably in his hold. Shiro lifted a curious brow. “I’m about to push you over and ride you until the sun comes up, so unless you’re looking for round two—”

“Alright, I get it,” Shiro cut her threat short with a chuckle that rumbled his chest as he momentarily pulled back just enough to slip out before crowding back around her. Pidge sighed in relief, though she could still feel him against her thigh. _That_ she could live with. Probably. Maybe. She’d see.

“Night, Katie.” Shiro brushed her hair away to kiss her ear, then her forehead, before settling back into his pillow and letting his eyes fall shut, his nose buried in her messy brown hair. Pidge hummed in response, absolutely exhausted, ready to finally welcome the sweet embrace of sleep once and for all.

Then the baby monitor sounded.

Oh, _now_ she’s hungry!” Pidge griped as she squirmed out of Shiro’s hold and rolled onto her back, dreading the trek across the cold floor back down to the nursery. Shiro’s shadow engulfed her as he rose to his feet first.

“Here, stay put. I’ll handle it,” he insisted with a yawn, reaching to turn down the volume on the baby monitor so that Trillian’s ear-piercing screams weren’t as brain-rattling. He pulled on a pair of pajama pants from the floor.

“Yeah? Well, good luck explaining to Trillian why her food’s gone.”

Shiro visibly paled. Pidge couldn’t hold back her boisterous guffaws of laughter as he froze mid-stretch, clearly mortified over what he’d done and his apparent failure as a father. Pidge, suddenly rejuvenated, hopped out of bed and threw on her discarded underwear. She grabbed his hand and led him out of their room together, pausing to shoot him one of her signature devilish smirks when she noticed his hesitation.

_“Relax,_ Shiro—there’s a bottle in the fridge.”


End file.
